Tequila
by It'sNotEasyBeingQueen
Summary: Blaine is on his first tour and loving it, until a mention of tequila has him missing someone special.


**Tequila**

 _This fic has an unusual origin story, which I'll share at the end._

Going on tour had been a dream of Blaine's for as long as he could remember. New cities, new audiences, playing live for his fans every night – it was amazing.

The schedule brought them to this city late in the afternoon one day early, giving them some rare free time to enjoy a little bit of the city instead of rushing in and out as usual. Determined to have a classic first-tour experience, Blaine had declared that he would sleep on the bus with the rest of the band for the rare overnight stay. Normally, they would be on the move overnight, so there was really no other option. His bandmates, Nick, Jeff, and Wes, however, had convinced him that it was worth the splurge for them to get a double room and sleep in actual beds for a change. Outvoted three to one, Blaine acquiesced.

The band and crew gathered for a nice dinner at a cozy restaurant the hotel concierge recommended, followed by a few ("only a _few_ , Blaine," Wes had wisely warned) drinks. Blaine was all smiles and laughs until someone ordered a round of tequila shots. He quietly declined his without much explanation, and the party broke up rather naturally soon thereafter.

"You coming, man?" Jeff asked impatiently from inside the hotel elevator, holding the door open with his arm.

Blaine hesitated, wanting a little time to himself. "I'll be up in a minute. You guys go ahead," he responded, turning and walking slowly through the lobby, not seeing the concerned looks on the faces of his friends as the heavy metal doors slid shut.

It was a lovely hotel, and Blaine hoped that their one-night stay wouldn't be too big of a hit on their tiny tour budget. Glancing around as he walked, he spied a deserted lounge area with a few couches and chairs. It seemed like as good a place as any to kill some time and wallow in the melancholia which had overtaken him at the end of the evening. Before he could choose a seat, his eyes landed upon exactly what he needed.

A friendly hotel clerk happened to pass, and Blaine stopped her politely. "May I?" he asked, gesturing across the room. The clerk smiled, clearly recognizing him, and nodded enthusiastically. "Of course," she replied. "I'll see that you aren't disturbed, Mr. Anderson." He thanked her with a wink and a warm, "It's _Blaine_ ," then made a bee-line towards the back of the lounge.

He pulled out the padded bench and took a seat at the shiny, ebony baby grand, lifting the lid in a well-known movement. His fingers moved of their own accord before he'd even consciously decided what to play. It wasn't anything in particular, really – just a beautiful, if slightly sad, collection of notes and chords that seemed to echo his mood.

Without an audience, there really wasn't a need to sing, but habit and instinct rarely let him do one without the other. He played softly, blending one song into the next seamlessly. As he sang the last refrain of "All of Me," he felt a light touch to his shoulder.

"I thought I might find you here," Nick said quietly. "You seemed a bit off at the end of dinner," he continued, leaning on the corner of the piano as Blaine shrugged without missing a note. "I didn't like how you were when we headed upstairs. Jeff was about to come looking for you, but I thought I'd spare you that. You're welcome."

Blaine gave him a brief half smile and vamped a little on the keys, a nameless tune that Nick could almost identify but not quite. Finally, he let out a little sigh. "I miss Kurt," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," Nick sympathized, feeling a bit guilty that his own partner was just upstairs waiting for him. "I know it sucks, but we'll be back home in a few days," he offered.

"I know. I just…" he trailed off, letting the thought evaporate in the music.

"What brought this on?" Nick asked.

"The tequila shots," Blaine said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need more than that," Nick chuckled.

His hands finally stilled on the keys. "Tequila. Kurt doesn't drink often, but tequila is his favorite. I can never drink it without thinking of him."

Nick reached out a hand and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "You are such a puppy," he said with an affectionate laugh, ignoring Blaine's eye roll. "Come on, off to bed with you," he added, pushing himself off of the piano and tugging at Blaine's sleeve.

"I will – just one more," Blaine promised, turning to him with a small smile. "Thanks for checking up on me."

"Any time," Nick promised, patting him on the back and walking away towards the main lobby.

Hands on the keys once more, he started a song that he'd heard recently and had toyed with a bit. It had instantly reminded him of Kurt, and he planned to play it for him when he got home.

 _I can still shut down a party  
I can hang with anybody  
I can drink whiskey and red wine  
Champagne all night  
Little Scotch on the rocks and I'm fine, I'm fine_

 _But when I taste tequila, baby I still see ya  
Cutting up the floor in a sorority t-shirt  
The same one you wore when we were  
Sky high in Colorado, your lips pressed against the bottle  
Swearing on a bible, baby, I'd never leave ya  
I remember how bad I need ya, when I taste Tequila  
When I taste Tequila_

 _I can kiss somebody brand new  
And not even think about you  
I can show up to the same bar  
Hear the same songs in my car  
Baby, your memory, it only hits me this hard_

 _When I taste Tequila, baby I still see ya  
Cutting up the floor in a sorority t-shirt  
The same one you wore when we were  
Sky high in Colorado, your lips pressed against the bottle  
Swearing on a bible, baby, I'd never leave ya  
I remember how bad I need ya, when I taste Tequila  
When I taste Tequila_

 _I ain't even drunk, I ain't even drunk  
And I'm thinking  
How I need your love, how I need your love  
Yeah, it sinks in_

 _When I taste Tequila, baby I still see ya  
Sorority t-shirt, the same one you wore when we were  
Sky high in Colorado, your lips pressed against the bottle  
Swearing on a bible, baby, I'd never leave ya  
I remember how bad I need ya, when I taste Tequila  
When I taste Tequila  
When I taste Tequila  
When I taste Tequila_

As the last echoes of the piano died out, Blaine heard a single pair of hands clapping quietly. Still looking at the keys, he shook his head and laughed gently. "I thought you'd gone back to your room, Nicky," he teased.

"I've been called a lot of things in my life, but that's a new one."

Blaine whipped his head up at the voice. It couldn't be…

"Kurt?"

As if appearing from a dream, there stood his beloved, looking gorgeous as always. Blaine was up off the piano bench and across the lounge so quickly that he nearly knocked Kurt over as he wrapped his arms around him. They embraced tightly for a long few seconds before Blaine pulled back enough to kiss Kurt soundly on the mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked once he'd finally released Kurt's lips, though he maintained his hold around his waist.

"I wanted to surprise you," Kurt answered with a giggle, trying to catch his breath after the enthusiastic welcome. "I was supposed to be here hours ago, but my stupid flight got delayed because of a thunderstorm."

"I can't believe you did that," Blaine whispered, awestruck.

"I missed you," Kurt whispered back, blushing faintly and leaning in for another kiss. "We should probably move this out of the lounge, however," he added when they parted. "I don't want to get kicked out for being lewd in the lobby."

Blaine laughed, a sound of warmth and happiness that Kurt had missed so much. Blaine picked up the overnight bag that Kurt had dropped on the floor and slid his free hand around Kurt's waist. He stopped short after a few steps, nearly tripping Kurt in the process. "Oh, no," he muttered.

"What?"

"I don't have a room," he replied, crestfallen. "I mean, I have a room, but I'm sharing with the guys. Great, just great," he grumbled.

"Um, Blaine?" Kurt interrupted. He slipped his hand into his pocket and came up with a keycard of his own. Blaine's face lit up like Christmas morning. "You seriously thought I'd come all this way to bunk with _that_ group?"

"Oh, I do love you," Blaine declared, giving Kurt a firm kiss on the cheek.

"Come on." Kurt started walking, pulling Blaine along with him towards the elevator. "Let's go see if they have any of those ridiculously expensive tiny bottles of tequila in the mini-bar."

 _A/N: So here's the story behind the story: this started out as an idea a couple of weeks ago by the lovely roxymusicandlayers, who said the song "Tequila" by Dan + Shay (the lyrics of which appear above) made her think of a CrissColfer fic. She said she could picture Darren singing the song and saying he can't drink tequila because it reminds him of Chris (who has stated before that he likes it – actually, I believe he said that it makes him spin a conspiracy theory that puts him in line for the British throne!). I don't do RPF, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. A few days ago, I dashed off a quick story and sent it to roxy as a thank you for her endless support and cheerleading. I never intended to post it online anywhere, and still don't. I'm casting no shade on RPF writers; it just isn't my brand, if you will._

 _Anyway, I joked with roxy that maybe one day I'd adapt it to be a Klaine fic. This morning, I saw online that today (7/24) is National Tequila Day. Well, I thought to myself, if that isn't a sign, I don't know what is. So, here is my Klaine version, tweaked to be a bit more Blaine and Kurt and a little less Darren and Chris. Hope you all enjoyed it! Be kind to yourselves and to one another._


End file.
